


Self Care is Important

by Maeniac



Series: Let It All Out [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Ed-level cursing, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, These boys need hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 19:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeniac/pseuds/Maeniac
Summary: It would have been less noticeable if Edward’s complete disregard of his own health had been a gradual change. A missed meal here, a late night there, and no one would have batted an eye. But this is Ed so naturally he goes full throttle from the very beginning.Or: what I imagine Ed must have been like at the start of the journey to recover their bodies until Al stages an intervention.





	Self Care is Important

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting a work by myself so please let me know in the comments if you enjoyed and what you liked about this! The song described towards the end is called Lullaby by Dixie Chicks. Also please be warned that this fic contains a graphic description of an anxiety attack. Remember to stay safe and look after yourself!

Edward’s fidgeting again. He listens, trying his best to rein in his impatience, as Mustang goes through the - _stupid, annoying, pointless_ \- formalities required for his new position. No use in starting a fight when he’s only just gotten here. No, that’ll just waste even _more_ time. Ed forces himself to breathe steadily. He can do this. He waited a year, and spent every second forcing himself through each frustration and setback, clawing with everything he _is_ , just to be able to stand here. A few more minutes won’t kill him. Probably.

Mustang concludes his little speech with a slight smirk that says he knows _exactly_ how ready Edward is for this to be over. “Now, how about I show you to where you’ll be staying so you can get settled? After that, I can take you to the library.” He says.

“Sure,” Ed says, hoping a quick agreement will get them out the door faster. “Sounds good.”

The Colonel nods and leads them outside the office where Alphonse is waiting. After relaying the plan, the three of them set out for the headquarter’s dorms. In typical military fashion, the building is plain but functional. They make their way quickly through the unremarkable lobby, up a flight of stairs and down the corridor. Soon, Mustang slows and stops in front of a door.

“This is your room.” He says, pulling out a set of keys and tossing them to Ed. A little glow of pride runs through him when he manages to catch them without faltering. “Don’t lose those.” Mustang adds, clearly trying to get a rise out of Ed.

He decides to be the bigger person and ignores that last comment. Unlocking the room and stepping inside, Ed glances very briefly at their accommodations. Immediately apparent in the main room are the smooth wooden dining table surrounded by chairs and the modest sofa that, at the very least, _looks_ comfortable. Off to one side is a tiny kitchenette with a tiled floor and several cabinets. At the other end of the room is a short hall with two doors – assumedly, a bedroom and bathroom. While the whole space is furnished rather sparsely, there’s something about the warm colours and enclosed space that feels cozy. Inviting. Ed doesn’t bother putting any more thought into it than he already has.

Alphonse steps inside to examine things further, his natural curiosity shining through. Ed, on the other hand, marches purposefully towards a door at random, opens it to catch a glimpse of a bed and nightstand and tosses his suitcase inside without another glance. Shutting the door again, he moves back to where the Colonel and Al are loitering.

Crossing his arms he says, “So can we go to that library or what?” He only _just_ manages to refrain from tapping his foot.

Mustang’s eyebrows raise at this. “Don’t you want to unpack at all?” He asks. He sounds irritatingly amused, the friggin’ _bastard_.

Edward snorts. “I’ll unpack later. It’s not like my suitcase will grow legs if I don’t gut it now.”

“Neither will the library,” Mustang can’t seem to keep himself from commenting. “Very well - if you’ll follow me.” He turns and heads out.

One of the most obvious perks about staying at the military headquarters in East City is the proximity of everything. Along the short walk to the library, they pass markets packed with fresh fruit and vegetables; restaurants wafting delicious savoury smells through the air; quaint cafés bustling with patrons and all other manner of shops and businesses. It’s getting close to lunch time so the streets are filled with pedestrians. Ed would slow down and take in the people from all walks of life, but right now he’s on a mission. From the corner of his eye, he can see Alphonse giving in to the urge to look around in wonder. The sight both warms his chest in endearment and stabs through his heart at the reminder that Al can’t enjoy this fully. Ed sets his gaze forward again. As soon as this is over, he promises himself, he’ll take Al sightseeing to any city his little brother wants.

The library comes into view then, an impressive monument made up of gleaming marble pillars and dripping in ornate mouldings. It practically screams “high class establishment” and Ed is suddenly uncomfortably aware of his background growing up in a small country-town. Even so, like hell is he gonna let a little self-consciousness stop him. This is _it_. This is where he can finally start putting things back to rights. Before him lies more knowledge than he thought he could ever possibly get his hands on. If there’s anywhere that will have answers for him, it’s here.

Edward takes a deep breath, golden eyes burning bright as he stares down his next obstacle. He sets his shoulders, and marches inside like a soldier going to battle.

 

* * *

 

It would have been less noticeable if Edward’s complete disregard of his own health had been a gradual change. A missed meal here, a late night there, and no one would have batted an eye. But this is Ed so _naturally_ he goes full throttle from the very beginning.

Between taking book after book out of the library and holing himself up in their dorm, he drops any and all self-maintenance almost entirely. He hardly sleeps, hardly eats, maintains the bare minimum of hygiene and the only reason he goes to the bathroom is because he's above pissing himself. But it’s a near thing.

He’s just so desperate to _fix this_. It was his mistake - all his mistake. His little brother doesn't deserve this punishment when it should be Ed – _God, it should have been Ed_. So, he's gotta fix it. He’s gotta do everything he can - everything within his power. Ed can't rest knowing that Al is stuck inside a prison of his own making, _physically incapable_ of doing the same.

By the end of the week, Ed's a fucking wreck. He’s lost count of how many hours he's been awake, how many all nighter's he's pulled. He’s dizzy and he can't stop _shaking_. It’s hard to tell whether that's from the gnawing hunger or the anxiety clawing at his chest and wailing like a siren in his brain so loud that stopping even for a minute feels like he might just die on the spot.

In the end, it’s a tiny inconvenience that tips the balance and brings everything crashing down. Edward stumbles over to the shelf for another stack of tomes to devour in his frenzy but he's so weak and jittery that he drops them. Books and pages go scattering everywhere and that's it - _that's it_ \- he fucked up, he ruins everything, he’s such a failure, he - he can't _breathe_ -

Al comes back from another run to the library and finds him on all fours, surrounded by his research where it’s taken over the living room. Ed is shuddering and sobbing so hard it's a wonder he hasn't been completely knocked to the floor by the crushing weight on his shoulders. His little brother crouches next to him and gently – so, so gently - helps him upright until they’re both kneeling, then pulls his brother into an all-encompassing hug. Al rubs a hand up and down his back, the feeling comforting and familiar. Safe. He whispers nonsense reassurance to Ed and the wailing sirens lose their fever pitch. Eventually, he wipes his eyes, piecing himself back together enough to speak.

"Al," and his voice sounds _wrecked_. He swallows and tries again but the words still come out unsteady, just a little. Just enough to give him away (if you didn’t count the obvious meltdown from seconds earlier). "Al, I'm sorry it's been taking me so long. I promise I'll fix this, I'll find the answer soon, just - just wait a little longer for me, little brother, okay?"

To Alphonse, Ed sounds like he's begging – _pleading_ \- with him and that's not right. It’s not right that he's begging _Al_ for patience when his brother deserves to get his body back just as much, when Edward’s been put through so much more _pain_ than he ever was.

"Brother, I can't let you do this." He says.

Shock jolts through Ed so hard it feels like an electric current straight to his heart.

"What?"

"You can't go on like this anymore - I won't let you!” He’s hardly ever heard Al sound this upset. “When was the last time you slept - ate - hydrated? When was the last time you did _anything_ to take care of yourself and not to try and get my body back?"

Ed blinks and tries to remember. His mind is such a haze that nothing comes forward. He can't help but wonder instead how this is relevant. Al must read this in his expression because he sighs exasperatedly before scooping Ed off the floor altogether and into his arms.

"Alright, enough is enough. I'm going to heat up a can of soup and fill a glass of water for you, you are going to _finish both of those_ , and then you are going to _sleep_ \- whether you like it or not!" Ed gapes in surprise at this.

“Wha- Al, no! Put me down - I'm _fine!_ ” Alphonse continues walking, unperturbed, to the tiny kitchenette attached to their shared dorm.

“Pardon my language, Brother, but we both know that's bullshit." Ed’s mouth snaps shut guiltily.

Well, shit. It’s almost impossible to hide anything from Al – not for long, not after growing up together, not after losing what little family they had. If Al is swearing, then this has probably gone way too far. Even so, Ed can't help wriggling unhappily, his chest tightening as time continues ticking on while he’s not being productive in the slightest. Al sets him down on a chair at the table and gives him a fierce look that spells dire consequences if he so much as moves an inch from that spot. True to his word, he then gets out a can of soup from the bare pantry and goes through the process of heating it up.

It takes maybe ten minutes at most, but it feels like an eternity to Ed. He watches his brother, stares at the table, glances back, shifts his position on the chair. Cracks his knuckles on both hands, a nervous habit that he can’t seem to break despite all the times Winry has scolded him for it. In the relative quiet, the pops and grinding of metal grate on his ears. He shifts again, then gives up and puts his head in his hands, trying to get his heart to slow, or his breaths to steady or _something_.

A bowl is placed in front of him. He looks up at Al and his little brother looks down at him with so much concern radiating from him it's obvious even in the armour.

"Eat up," his little brother says gently. The thought of wasting any _more_ time makes his stomach twist but Edward still obeys. Despite the persistent tremor in his hands, he shovels the hot soup in his mouth fairly quickly and downs the glass of water under Al's watchful gaze. As soon as he's finished, Al whisks the dirty dishes away and then picks him up once more. Ed lets out a little whine at being carried again.

“Is this really necessary?"

"Yup!" Al responds cheerfully.

“Great." He grumbles.

"You know, if you took care of yourself better, I wouldn't have to do this." Al points out and receives more grumbling in return.

Al finally, _finally_ deposits Ed on his bed, waiting expectantly for him to settle down. Ed huffs indignantly but knows it won't do anything to dissuade Al; he can be as stubborn as his older brother when it suits him. So, he takes off his belt, changes into loose sleep pants and an old shirt, and slips under the covers. He glances over his shoulder at Al one more time before pointedly rolling over to face the other way. Alphonse sighs and switches off the lamp, calling out a quiet "Good night, brother."

"Night, Al." Ed grunts. He forces his eyes shut and wills himself to sleep.

It's so quiet. Distantly, Edward can hear the wind moving through the trees outside. There's the sound of shifting metal from Al and then the quiet flutter of turning pages. His brother must have pulled out a book.

It's strange. He's spent so many days wrapped up in the cacophony of his racing thoughts that the sudden silence is unnerving. Suffocating. He tosses and turns, trying to get comfortable but he just can't settle. His skin crawls sickeningly the longer he tries to remain still.

It's getting difficult to breathe again.

Ed mentally berates himself: for being slow in his research, for having a meltdown, for worrying Alphonse. His thoughts continue spiralling downwards. If he could just fall asleep, if he could just figure this out, _if he could just do something right for once in his life instead of wasting everyone's time_ –

"Brother," Al says. His voice sounds careful. "You're hyperventilating."

Ed forces himself to take a deep, slow breath before flipping onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

"So what if I am?" He replies. Alphonse is silent for a moment before he speaks again.

"What's bothering you?"

What _isn't_ bothering him might be a better question. He could try to dismiss it - assure Al that it's nothing worth mentioning - but something tells him that won't slide this time. The other option, of course, would be to tell the truth. But how could he do that? How could Ed confess every single one of his ugly fears? That he's a failure, that it's all his fault they're like this, that he's terrified that Al secretly hates him for it.

That there's a tiny chance that there _isn’t_ a way to get Al's body back.

But he can't say any of that. What kind of big brother would that make him? Maybe... maybe he can give part of the truth - just a small piece of the jagged puzzle. He can do that much.

Ed clears his throat and says meekly, "Don't wanna make you wait."

"I'm not going anywhere." Al says simply. "You're not going anywhere. The research isn't going anywhere. You don't have to push yourself so _hard_ , Brother. We’re supposed to do this together! You're going to hurt yourself, and then where will you be?"

"I know that!" Ed snaps, sitting up. Normally, he wouldn't speak to Al so harshly but it's late and he's so tired and all of his frustration and anxiety is rising up in his throat like bile until he's forced to either spit it out or choke on it. "I know,” he begins again, forcing his tone softer, "That I have to - to eat and sleep and all that shit, but I _can't_. It's not fair to you, Al. It's not fair that I can do all these things when you can't and I have to make you wait for it. I just... I can't let myself stop.” He frowns, disliking how helpless that sounds. “I made a promise to you and I need to keep it.” And now his voice is as determined and steely as the day he said “One year”. Suddenly, the resolve rushes up again, itching in his blood and under his skin, making him desperate to _move_.

Al heaves a sigh.

“I believe you.” He says and hope makes Ed perk up, eager to get back to work. “But, you’re still going to sleep through the rest of the night, Brother.” His hope promptly swan dives and implodes.

“ _Al!_ ” He is absolutely not whining, nope, no siree. “I already told you I –“

“Can’t sleep.” Al finishes for him. “So let me help you.”

Ed squirms, his mind thinking of a hundred different ways to fend Al off. It’s Ed’s job to be the big brother, to look out for them both. He already failed at it once (big time), he doesn’t want to keep letting Alphonse down. His little brother shouldn’t have to take care of him. He opens his mouth to try and voice any of this but Al clearly knows him too well because he cuts him off again.

“Please?” He asks. With the 7-foot-tall, emotionless façade of armour, it’s easy to forget that his little brother is still just a young boy. At times like these, his age shines through his tone of voice. “For me? It makes me feel a little better knowing I can help you.”

All the fight drains out of Ed. Damn it all but he can hardly deny Al anything. Flopping back, Ed lets his breath leave him in a steady exhale. “Fine.” He says quietly. “What do you want me to do?”

Alphonse lets out a thoughtful little hum, crossing the room with as little clanking as he can manage.

“Grab the blanket?” He says. “I don’t think I can fit on the mattress.”

Ed raises an eyebrow at that, but when Al refuses to elaborate on it, he does as he’s told. Stepping away from the bed, he notices the slight chill in the air. Al’s busy settling himself in the corner so Ed wraps the thick duvet around him like a cape. It trails on the floor a little behind him. (And it’s for no other reason than that it’s an excessively large blanket, alright??)

“Okay, come here.” His little brother says, inviting him forward with a gesture. He’s sitting with his back against the wall, knees bent and feet propped up on the floor to create a space in front of him. Ed steps closer curiously and Alphonse guides him down until Ed is sitting on the floor with him, leaning his back against Al’s chest. He stretches his legs out and Al’s arms wrap around his middle, holding him securely.

“Comfy?” His little brother asks. Ed answers with a silent nod. Normally, a suit of armour isn’t the cushiest thing to rest on, but with Edward swaddled in the duvet and arms around him, he feels… safe. Safer than he’s felt in a long ass time. Too long, probably.

Still, he can’t quite let himself relax just yet.

“I feel… kinda dumb. For this.” He mutters.

“How so?” Alphonse asks.

Ed doesn’t even need to look to know Al has his head cocked to one side. He shrugs as well as he can in his blanket burrito.

“Dunno,” he says, “Like… this is kind of little kid stuff, isn’t it?”

 _Little kids_ get scared at night when the world goes dark all around them. _Little kids_ can’t just suck it up and face their irrational fears on their own. _Little kids_ need to be held so that they feel safe enough to fall asleep.

Edward hasn’t been a little kid since the day his mom died.

Alphonse is quiet for so long Ed begins to think he just doesn’t know how to respond. It almost startles him when he whispers, “I think… I think she would want to do this. For us – for you, even. But-“ he trails off and doesn’t finish that thought. “So, I want to do it.” Al doesn’t need to elaborate on who he means.

 _Mom_.

The thought sends a pang of grief through him, a sharp and stabbing pain in his lungs every time he inhales instead of the old and dull ache it should be by now. Ed squeezes his eyes shut tight and clenches his jaw. He doesn’t want to cry right now, absolutely refuses to. He hates crying; it’s probably the one thing he hates more than milk. When the wave of excruciating sadness recedes, Ed un-tenses again.

“Sorry,” Al mutters, and even in that one word Ed can hear the regret his brother feels for bringing him more hurt.

“Don’t be,” he says, reassuring. “It’s okay to talk about it. We shouldn’t forget her.”

There’s another silence as they both slip into their memories. Playing in the garden together, showing off the results of their alchemy side by side, making dinner as a team. Flashes of warmth and light and love. It’s hard to say how long they sit like that for, when Al tentatively speaks up again.

“Hey,” He begins, voice hushed - as if being any louder could shatter this moment. “Do you remember the lullaby she sang for us?”

“Yeah,” Ed says, and he does. “It was a really pretty song. Always made me fall asleep in no time.” It’s funny how the sadness is still there, but now it feels… different. Better somehow. A little more nostalgic, a little less heavy to be sharing it. “How does it start again?” He asks.

Alphonse starts humming a lilting tune, the kind that mothers rock their babies in time to. After a couple bars, Al sings, “ _They didn’t have you where I come from,_ ” And his voice is soft and gentle, brushing through the air like a feather and plucking notes like harp strings all at once. He hums between each line of the song, the same way their mom always did. “ _Didn’t know the best was yet to come._ ” He pauses then, suddenly stuck on the words.

Ed clears his throat as best as he can and sings croakily, “ _Life began when I saw your face,_ ” cringing at the sound of his own voice. He’s nowhere near as good at carrying a tune. Still, he sings the next line - and it must have jogged Al’s memory, because his little brother sings with him. “ _And I hear your laugh like a serenade._ ”

Ed sticks to humming as Al sings the chorus:

“ _How long do you wanna be loved?_

_Is forever enough, is forever enough?_

_How long do you wanna be loved?_

_Is forever enough? ‘Cause I’m never, never giving you up._ ”

If you asked someone what home is to them, most people would say the place they grew up, the place where their family is, the place they made a life for themselves. If you asked Ed, he would say home is a feeling. It’s the warmth from cradling a bowl of his favourite stew. It’s the smell of old books, paper and ink filling his lungs. It’s the sound of his brother’s laugh, bright and happy. It’s Winry and Granny hunched over their work table together. So much has happened so quickly, sometimes he forgets what home feels like. But this - being wrapped in Al’s arms and singing their mother’s lullaby together - reminds him.

This, too, feels like home.

Eyelids heavy, Ed lets his brother’s humming send him to sleep, drifting closer and closer with each note. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up and go back to work - but this time he knows that he doesn’t have to bear this weight alone. Al is here with him and they’ll do it together. If anyone can find a way to restore themselves, it’s the Elric brothers.

 _And then_ , Ed’s last waking thought rings in his head, _Al can feel home again too._


End file.
